


A Little Help From My Friends

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Series: Generation Kill / West Wing Crossover Humor!Fic [10]
Category: Generation Kill, West Wing
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad and Nate stop a potential assassination then take a ride in a limo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help From My Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This could **_NEVER_** in a million years happen. Ever.
> 
> Written for silverbowl's donation on 4_a_star.
> 
> Unbeta'd. All errors my own.

Nate rested his ankle on his opposite knee, propping the briefing memo in his lap to read along.

“The President wants the message to be that the attending nations are all serious players on the world stage,” Toby Ziegler said as he leaned against the fireplace mantle.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Nate replied.

“By keeping focus on those attending, it takes attention away from those who aren’t,” Sam Seaborn paused briefly. “It basically sends the message that if Pakistan wants its issues addressed, it had better come to the party next time.”

“Just as I said to the President,” said Nate. He watched as Brad approached quietly, cup and saucer in one hand. Nate took the coffee, smiling up at him in appreciation and affection.

Brad grinned in return, brushing his fingers over Nate’s wrist. Nate quickly reached out, grabbing hold of Brad’s hand and giving it a brief, hard squeeze. He wanted to linger over the touch; tug Brad down and kiss him breathless. There never seemed to be time enough or privacy, anymore.

“Everyone is going to expect you to make a statement about punitive action toward Pakistan for not attending.” Toby picked up the thread of the discussion as if Nate hadn’t spoken. “Your silence on the matter will send a statement to Pakistan, loud and clear.”

“I can’t wait to hear this again,” Nate said under his breath.

Sam rested his hands on his hips as he spoke. “Until they show up and play nice with the other kids, they’re going to be ignored.”

“Which isn’t precisely how I put it in my proposal.” Nate admitted to himself it was rather humorous; the President’s staff was so excited about the conference they’d stopped listening to what he was saying.

“And like any unruly child, they’ll just throw a temper tantrum to get attention,” Toby concluded.

“A bridge I will cross if and when I come to it,” Nate replied firmly, setting his empty cup on the table beside him.

“Unless your mission is scrubbed before you even get there,” Brad muttered, his back to the room.

Nate allowed himself a small grin.

Sam appeared at a loss as he continued, “The important thing to remember is that each time someone tries to talk about Pakistan, you turn attention toward Egypt.”

“Because Egypt showed up to the dance, we reward them with extra special attention,” Nate said, sliding the memo into his portfolio. “I think I’ve got this, gentlemen.”

“Do we need to go over the talking points again, Mr. Secretary?” Toby asked.

Nate stood and tugged his suit straight. “Kristin’s been working with me for the last week, guys. I’ve got this.”

“Think of it like being the cool kid, Mr. Secretary,” said Sam.

Okay, that was something new. Nate looked over at Sam in confusion.

“You’re the cool kid and everyone wants your attention. You give it to anyone who does what you want them to and ignore everyone else.” Sam elaborated.

“Because the Secretary has no idea what it’s like to be the cool kid,” Brad said dryly, sipping from a china coffee cup that was dwarfed by his large hand.

Nate chuckled, enjoying the quirk of Brad’s mouth behind the small cup. He turned toward Sam and Toby. “You know, guys, I did help the President formulate this policy on handling Pakistan and Egypt.”

Sam turned to Toby for guidance.

“In other words, Mr. Secretary, stop trying to feed your own ideas back to you?” Toby asked humorlessly.

“It _would_ save a lot of time.”

Robyn, Nate’s Chief of Staff, came into the room. “They’re ready for you, sir.” She crossed to where Nate stood facing Brad.

“I’ll be there in just a minute,” Nate said. “Thank you, everyone.”

His staff, along with Toby and Sam, filed out of the room. Robyn and Kristin, his Press Secretary, stayed behind. Nate came to stand in front of Brad.

“Looks like it’s show time,” said Brad.

Nate smoothed his palms down his suit. “How do I look?”

“Your tie is a little crooked,” Kristin said, already lifting her hands to help.

Brad made a small sound in the back of his throat, withdrawing his hands from the pockets of his suit trousers. Kristin snatched her hands back with a grin. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Brad lifted Nate’s collar, straightened his tie then smoothed the collar back into place. His look of concentration far exceeded what was necessary to fix Nate’s tie. Nate couldn’t help but smile.

Brad’s fingers were warm and capable against his throat. He wished he could feel Brad’s hands on every part of his body. Nate suddenly felt very tired. He couldn’t hold back his sigh.

“Look on the bright side, Mr. Secretary,” said Robyn. “Starting tonight, you get to spend the next four nights in the same bed.”

Nate lifted one eyebrow in contemplation. She had a point. For the duration of the conference, Nate didn’t have to be on his airplane flying to the far reaches of the globe.

Brad was watching him closely with his own lifted brow.

They were together almost constantly yet had virtually no privacy. Nate wasn’t comfortable being intimate on his airplane. His staff always gave him the time, undisturbed, if he asked for it. Nate just couldn’t help but fear he’d hear a knock on his door just before he came. Or worse, that his staff would hear him when he did.

Four consecutive nights in the _same_ hotel room seemed like a luxury at this point.

“Let’s get this show on the road, then,” Nate said, grinning at Brad before turning to leave the room.

In the corridor, his security detail closed in around them for the walk to the ballroom where the President would give his welcome speech.

Josh Lyman intercepted them halfway down the hall. “Mr. Secretary, do you have a minute?”

“Not really, Josh, but what do you need?”

“Did Sam and Toby talk to you about the message we want to convey during the conference?”

“The same one I helped the President develop?”

“Yeah, I suppose you had a hand in that.”

“A hand in developing United States foreign policy and the accompanying public message? As Secretary of State, I think that’s my job.”

Josh hesitated. “Yeah, I guess that would be, huh?”

“Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah. No. Did Sam tell you the part about pretending you’re the cool kid?”

“Don’t tell me; that was your idea?”

“Yeah. Well, Sam helped.”

“I’m assured of this,” Nate said dryly.

“It’s just … this is a big deal.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Cooperation on this scale is unprecedented. This could be our legacy.”

“And it might even stop a few million innocent people from being slaughtered in their home countries.”

Josh blinked at Nate several times. “Never lose sight of the big picture, do you, Mr. Secretary?”

“Not when a simple slip of the tongue can lead to someone going to war.”

They’d reached the corridor leading to the ballroom. C.J. stood to the side, obviously waiting to approach Nate.

“Hey, C.J.,” Josh greeted with a lift of his chin.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Are we done?” Nate asked Josh.

“Yes, Mr. Secretary. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I appreciate that.”

He watched Josh wander off down the hallway, opposite of the direction Nate needed to go. Suddenly, Josh turned back.

“Hey, Nate?”

“Yes, Josh?” Nate struggled for patience.

“You really are good at your job.”

Nate didn’t bother to mask his surprise. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Josh.” Nate was surprised to hear Brad call.

Josh spun back around. “Yeah, Brad?”

“It might make it easier if you all remember; Nate _is_ the cool kid.”

Josh snorted a laugh and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.” He turned and walked down the corridor.

Nate turned toward C.J.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary.”

“C.J.” The entire group started to move toward the ballroom.

“Do you have a minute, sir?”

“Even fewer than I had before Josh got to me.”

“I just wanted to go over some last minute things to remember when you’re in front of the cameras or speaking with the press.”

“I’ve been fully prepped.”

“You should smile frequently, Mr. Secretary,” C.J. said, striding alongside Nate. “You have the most winning smile. It engenders confidence.”

“C.J.,” Nate said gently.

“Remember not to let anyone steer you off the topic of the conference.”

“C.J.”

“They’ll want to get you to comment on why Pakistan isn’t here.”

“C.J.,” Nate raised his voice just a little, regretting the sharpness in his tone.

C.J. glanced at him in surprise. “What?”

“I have my own Press Secretary now.”

C.J. looked abashed. “Oh, of course you do, Mr. Secretary. And Kristin does a great job.”

“Yes, she does. I’ve been fully prepped for this. And it’s not my first press conference, either.”

“I apologize, Mr. Secretary. I still feel a little protective of you.”

“I appreciate that, C.J.” Nate gave her arm a squeeze, remembering a time when she’d been welcoming to a junior staffer from the opposing political party.

They stopped in front of the doors that lead to the stage in the ballroom. C.J. turned to face him.

“Josh was right; you really are good at this, sir.”

Nate smiled at her. “Thank you, C.J. I’m glad you all think so.”

Brad was suddenly beside Nate. He reached for C.J.’s hand and held it between both of his. “Thank you for looking out for Nate,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

C.J. giggled and looked at Brad with that stunned expression she frequently wore in his presence. “Oh … well … you’re welcome, Brad.”

Nate bit his cheek to keep from laughing. C.J.’s reaction to Brad hadn’t changed over the years, and Brad was a charming fucker when he wanted to be.

“If you’ll excuse me?” Nate asked C.J.

“Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Secretary.” She stepped back to let his entourage enter the ballroom. “You’re going to do just fine, sir.”

With a final nod in her direction, Nate followed his security through the door and into the ballroom.

“What was that all about?” he asked Brad quietly.

“She’s got your back, Nate,” he answered, as if it was obvious. “For that, I have no problem being nice to her.”

Nate gave Brad’s hand a quick squeeze before he mounted the stage and approached the podium.

It was show time.

~*~

Nate tried to ignore the itch on the back of his neck. He glanced over at Brad for the hundredth time. This time, though, he wasn’t treated to a lifted brow telling him he was being ridiculous.

Brad’s attention was now focused elsewhere. Icy fingers walked a path up Nate’s spine.

Glancing around again, Nate saw that both his security detail and President Bartlett’s were correctly positioned and vigilant. The room was filled with U.N. officials, diplomats and their security. Nate’s unease was illogical.

And yet Brad was, even now, scanning the crowd, eyes narrowed.

Looking at the crowd in the same area Brad was looking, Nate finally saw it.

Brad had spent so much time in hostile A.O.s watching closely for threats, he’d picked up on the subtle cues more quickly. Nate had a moment of pride that he himself was quicker on the uptake than the Secret Service, before he realized what it all meant.

Brad was unbuttoning his suit coat and stepping back. That pushed Nate into action. He took several steps forward toward the podium.

Nate was so far off script, everyone around them was alerted. “Mr. President, would you please get down?” Nate said loudly and watched the circle of dark suits collapse around them.

President Bartlett looked confused as he turned toward Nate. A murmur swept through the room at Nate’s interruption.

“Please, Mr. President, would you _get down_?” Nate didn’t want to touch the President, but he would if he had to.

“Mr. Secretary,” said an agent from somewhere behind Nate.

There was no time to explain. Nate glanced at Brad, who had his hand resting on his still holstered weapon. When Brad reached behind himself blindly – reaching for Nate - and began to back across the stage, Nate knew the worst was coming.

He shouldn’t be doing this. His own protection detail had drilled him endlessly to let himself be pushed down hallways or tackled to the ground. He’d always wondered what would turn out to be his stronger drive, fight or flight.

As shots rang out, Nate learned the truth; fight won. He and several Secret Service Agents tackled President Bartlett to the floor of the stage.

Even as the controlled chaos of the Secret Service began to try to move both he and the President off the stage and out to safety, Nate was shaking them loose.

“Mr. Secretary, we talked about this!” shouted Nick, the head of Nate’s protection detail.

Nate’s motions were disconnected from his brain. He followed Brad right off the edge of the stage and into the fray.

Several men from the audience were being detained by agents and Brad pushed his way through them. “This one,” he shouted, gesturing above all their heads. “This guy here.”

The agents patted people down then roughly pushed them away. Hearing Brad’s shout, all of them converged on the one he indicated.

Nate and Brad got there first. Brad made the tackle, bringing the man to the ground. Nate lunged, reaching for the hand he saw clasping a gun. A shot rang out and the weapon recoiled as Nate wrapped both hands around the man’s wrist.

He felt Brad shifting against him as the man beneath them struggled. Nate was relieved when the man released the gun, but that meant he now had both arms and both legs with which to fight back.

Secret Service Agents were descending on them. One kicked the discarded weapon away. The man squirmed, nearly breaking their grip. Nate reached for him and his head was rocked back when an elbow connected with his face. He had his hand around the man’s wrist again so he twisted it behind his back. Brad was on the man’s back now, arm around his throat.

Together they held on as all around them, Secret Service pointed their drawn weapons and shouted orders and instructions. Brad held the man’s throat in the bend of his elbow and didn’t let go.

Nate felt it when the man began to lose consciousness.

“Let go, Nate,” Brad grunted. “Back away.”

There were strong hands on him now, gripping his shoulders and arms, pulling at his clothes. “Mr. Secretary, get out of the way,” Nick shouted.

Nate let go and let himself be dragged out of the way.

He turned back in time to see the group of dark suits collapse onto Brad and the suspect he still had a hold of. Seconds later, several agents dragged Brad out from the squirming mass of bodies and pushed him in Nate’s direction.

“Thank you for your help, Gunny,” one of them said. “Now get the hell out of the way.”

“Where’s the President?” Nate asked Nick as Brad stood beside him, tugging his suit straight.

“Already egressed to a secure location, sir,” Nick replied, beginning to drag Nate toward the door. “Just like you’re about to be.”

Nate glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see his ring of protection encompassed Brad as well.

As Nate’s detail dragged Brad and him down the secured corridors, he did his best to straighten his suit. He felt a brush at his arm and glanced over to see Brad handing him a handkerchief. He looked up at Brad in question and even as he took the cloth, Brad tapped a finger against his own lower lip. Nate touched the handkerchief to his mouth.

It came away bloody.

“Fuck,” he hissed, dabbing at his face to clean away the blood.

“Are you injured Mr. Secretary?” Nick demanded.

“Just a busted lip,” Nate groused.

He was going to catch hell from the President.

“Your actions today were very unadvisable,” Nick’s tone was dark.

“Yeah, I know.” Nate was resigned now. And his lip was no longer bleeding. “Apparently, Corps training trumps everything.”

“A lot of my guys have Corps training as well,” Neck replied. “And they still didn’t spot the threat as quickly as Gunny Colbert did.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re not as good as me,” Brad said, back straight, eyes scanning ahead for threats.

Technically, Brad was Nate’s civilian companion and under the protection of Nate’s detail. He was also armed, took Nate’s safety very seriously, and wouldn’t stand down his vigilance any time soon.

Nate raised his brow at Nick. “It’s not like they called him Iceman for nothing.”

His heart was racing and his hands were shaking. Everything around him seemed brighter and louder. Nate hadn’t felt like this since he’d been in combat. It was adrenaline, he knew. Even his dick was getting hard.

Nate glanced at Brad who looked back at him and grinned. He dropped his eyes briefly and saw that Brad was having the same reaction.

Fuck it. They’d just taken down a potential assassin, they were entitled to be a little excited.

Bursting into the kitchen, the group met up with the President and his detail.

“What the hell was that back there, Nathaniel?” President Bartlett demanded in a shout. “You are no longer a Marine. You are not a member of the United States Secret Service. You are _my_ goddamn Secretary of State!”

Nate had known the President was going to dress him down. But the use of his given name took him back. He fell back on OCS training, stood at attention and kept his mouth shut.

In the end, he was just a Marine officer being disciplined by his Commander in Chief.

“This is why you have protection. You let the professionals keep you safe, the same as they do for me. You do _not_ risk yourself out in the open like that. Politely asking me to please get down. Don’t you ever pull anything like that again. Do you understand me?”

Nate blinked several times. He realized the President’s anger was born of fear. He’d been worried and scared. Nate was a convenient target for the resulting anger, both because he’d caused some of it, and because he could take it standing up.

“I know, Mr. President. It was wrong of me and I apologize.”

“Mr. President,” Leo McGary said, coming to stand at the President’s elbow.

“You had better not be placating me, Nathaniel.”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t do you the insult. I disobeyed orders, plain and simple.”

“Mr. President,” Leo said again.

President Bartlett seemed to relax slightly as Nate rightfully shouldered the blame.

“You’re a valued member of my cabinet,” the President said with considerably less heat. “The time for putting yourself in harm’s way is behind you, Nate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. President,” Leo said with a little more volume.

“What is it, Leo?” The President’s irritation was obvious.

“We’ve talked about this, sir. Nate didn’t just stop being a Marine when he stopped putting on the uniform every day.”

“He’s been cautioned about this very thing. And yet, at the first opportunity, he jumps off the stage and tackles a guy with a gun.”

“Nate’s still a warrior, Mr. President. A fact you’re well aware of, since you send him into battle each and every day. Just because he’s not carrying his M16 anymore, doesn’t make it any less true.”

“He’s not a twenty-year-old jarhead, Leo. He’s the Secretary of State of the United States of America!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t dress him down in public like he’s your college age daughter.”

President Bartlett turned back to Nate with a heavy sigh. To Leo he said, “He argues with me less than _any_ of my daughters.”

“He argues with you plenty. He’s just more subtle about it.” Leo paused. “You might want to thank Nate’s Marine for his vigilance.”

The President turned to Brad. “Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant. A few of us probably owe you our lives.”

“Honored to be of assistance, Mr. President,” Brad replied.

“It didn’t bother you that Nate jumped off that stage right along with you?”

“Sir, after living through him going footmobile, the length of the platoon, during an ambush; nothing surprises me. I lost years off my life that night and I learned that Nate will never run and hide if he thinks he can stop harm from occurring to others.”

President Bartlett sighed. “There’s no stopping him, is there?”

“How many peace accords has he brokered for you, Mr. President?”

“You have a point.”

“Mr. President; the limo is here.”

“Do we even know who this man is and how this happened?” President Bartlett asked the room at large.

“No, Mr. President,” answered Jack, the agent in charge of the President’s detail. “But obviously we are unable to adequately secure this facility. Since someone at the conference appears to want you dead, you and the Secretary will not be in attendance this week.”

“It’ll fall apart without us,” President Bartlett said to Nate.

He feared that was true. So much hard work, teetering on the brink of collapse and failure. “Let’s have faith in our staffs and let the Secret Service sort this out. It might still be salvageable.”

“Let’s hope so.” The President looked defeated as he let his agents escort him to his waiting limo.

“Where’s my staff?” Nate asked Nick, once the President was gone.

“They’re all unharmed and secure, sir,” he answered. “They’ll follow in a separate car.”

“Back to D.C.?”

“That’s the S.O.P. after incidents like this.”

Nate sighed. So much for four consecutive nights in the same bed. He looked at Brad and let his disappointment show.

Brad reached out and dragged his thumb over Nate’s chin. “How’s the lip?”

Nate shrugged. What did it matter?

“Mr. Secretary?” Nick said quietly. “The route to the airport has been cleared but it’s still a thirty-minute drive. I’ll be the only one in the car with you and I’ll ride up front with the driver.”

Nate nodded his understanding, not really caring much.

When they reached the waiting limo, Nick held the door open for Nate and Brad. “You’ve got at least thirty-minutes, sir,” he said.

Brad slid into the rear seat beside Nate. It was odd that each of their small carry-on travel bags was on the seat across from them; they were usually in the trunk.

Nick climbed into the front seat. He turned to look at then, expression intense. “I’ll raise the privacy glass. It’ll stay up until we arrive at the airport, unless you ask for it to be lowered.”

“Thank you, Nick,” Nate sighed, not really caring what the big deal with the privacy glass was.

The glass went up and the car started moving. Nate shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable with his cock still half-hard.

Brad leaned forward and opened one of the cut glass decanters. He sloshed the contents into two glasses and handed one to Nate. He clinked their glasses together. “Here’s to stopping a potential Presidential assassin.”

Nate swallowed the alcohol and enjoyed the burn. He wondered if he’d be able to come down off this adrenaline high before they were wheels up.

Brad snatched Nate’s glass from his hand. He watched Brad set them back in their holders. He drew breath to say something but when Brad turned to face him, he wrapped both hands around Nate’s head and kissed him.

Nate made a sound of surprise, pushing at Brad’s chest. Pain from his split lip lanced through him.

Brad broke the kiss with a loud, wet sound.

“What the fuck, Brad?” Nate demanded. They were in a government vehicle on official State Department business and Brad was trying to play slap and tickle?

Brad tried to move in for another kiss and Nate evaded him. “Come on, Nate,” he said in frustration. “We’ve only got thirty minutes.”

“We’re not alone!” he said incredulously.

“Jesus Christ,” Brad said, trying to manhandle Nate into a position he was happy with. “If Nick dropped that hint any harder, you’d have a concussion.”

“What are you talking about?” Nate demanded, trying not to let himself be pinned to the wide leather seat.

“Nick maneuvered your staff into separate cars. He told you, multiple times, that we have thirty minutes and the privacy glass isn’t coming down unless you ask for it to. And,” Brad inclined his head toward their travel bags, “those are in here with us.”

Anticipation was quickly beating back Nate’s disbelief. “Are you saying the head of my security detail is trying to get me laid?”

“I hope it’s more than trying. I hope he’s successful.”

Nate ignored the pain in his lip and pulled Brad’s mouth down to his own. “Tell me Nick guessed right and you have lube in your bag,” he said against Brad’s lips. He just didn’t get to do this as much as he wanted to.

Brad bit lightly at Nate’s jaw. “And if I didn’t?” he asked through his teeth.

“We’d make do.”

“Right answer.”

Nate pulled Brad’s mouth back to his own. His ran his hands over Brad’s chest, feeling the muscles that were still firm and defined, even in retirement. Brad was pressing his post-combat erection into the side of Nate’s thigh. Nate felt Brad’s fingers at his throat, this time loosening the tie he’d straightened earlier.

“I wanna fuck you in the back of this very nice, expensive car the government lets you ride around in,” Brad growled against Nate’s neck. “Wanna shove your pants down to your knees and bend you over this soft, leather seat.”

Nate squirmed against Brad, his cock surging at the mental picture Brad’s words conjured.

“Put you on your knees, in your very expensive suit, and fuck that gorgeous mouth.” Brad shoved Nate’s suit jacket down off his shoulders, trapping his arms.

Nate pictured the scene Brad painted with his words, only it shifted in his mind. Instead, he saw Brad, sprawled on the seat, his own suit disheveled. Nate envisioned Brad’s face as he watched; eyes bright and mouth hanging slack.

He slid from the seat until he was kneeling between Brad’s thighs. Together, they got Nate’s suit coat off, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. Nate was past caring. Brad shifted until he was slouched down in the seat. His long legs took up so much space in the large car; one was fully extended, the other slightly bent. He rested his head back against the leather and watched Nate intently.

Nate reached for Brad’s fly and impatiently tugged at his belt. He opened Brad’s trousers and shoved his shirt up, baring his taut belly and firm chest. Brad used one hand to hold his shirt up, knowing Nate liked the view. His other hand he wrapped around the back of Nate’s head.

Pulling Brad’s hard cock out of his briefs, Nate wet his lips and lowered his head. He usually liked to tease a little before he swallowed Brad down; today there was no time. Nate covered his teeth with his lips and pushed himself down over the head of Brad’s erection.

Brad hissed, the hand on Nate’s head spasmed. “Yeah, like that. Fuck.”

Nate pressed his tongue flat to the fat vein on the underside as he sucked hard on Brad’s cock. He flicked his tongue into the slit every so often, listening for the catch in Brad’s breath. Nate opened his throat and ran his hands up the smooth skin of Brad’s torso.

“Jesus, look at you,” Brad whispered, his hips thrusting upward. “Just fucking look at you.”

Nate held steady as Brad fucked his mouth. He kept the suction tight and his tongue flat and firm. His spit rolled down the length of Brad’s cock, making his sucking sounds sloppy and wet. Nate looked up at Brad through his lashes, already knowing what he’d see.

Brad’s face was flushed, his eyes brilliant blue and luminous. His mouth hung open slightly as he breathed heavily. As Nate watched, Brad’s pink tongue darted out to wet his reddened lower lip. Beneath his palms, Brad’s chest heaved with his every breath.

A sharp turn sent Nate lurching against Brad’s upraised leg. They somehow managed to maintain their rhythm. Nate kept his lips sealed tight to Brad’s cock. He wanted to suck Brad to completion, swallow down his hot come. They didn’t have the time it would take for Brad to get hard again and Nate still wanted to get fucked. It had been so long.

“Nate … shit …,” Brad gasped, both hands pushing at Nate’s shoulders. His hips kept flexing as if chasing the heat of Nate’s mouth.

Lunging upward, Nate pressed his swollen lips to Brad’s. He pushed in and Brad met him, their tongues rubbing together wetly. Nate felt Brad’s hands between them, working at his belt.

He pulled out of the kiss with a wet smack. “Gonna bend me over the fancy leather seat now?” he said against Brad’s lips. “Shove my pants down to my knees and fuck me?”

Brad was making desperate sounds of agreement as Nate spoke. His hands fumbled at Nate’s fly. Finally, he sat up and began to drag Nate onto the seat next to him.

“Get your fucking lube,” Nate ordered, kneeling on the supple leather. He began to unfasten his own trousers.

Brad quickly unzipped a side pocket of his travel bag. As Nate shoved his trousers down his thighs to bunch on the seat at his knees, Brad settled down behind him. Nate bent forward at the waist, bracing one hand on the back of the seat, the other against the door of the car.

Behind him, Brad sighed softly, “Fuck.”

When he felt Brad’s strong hands grasp his ass cheeks, Nate pressed backward into them. The car lurched and they rocked against the back of the seat. It reminded Nate they didn’t have a lot time to be touchy-feely.

“Come on, Brad, hurry it up,” he said impatiently.

He heard Brad’s low chuckle at the same time the hands disappeared from Nate’s ass. Seconds later, there was a dull thump and one of Brad’s hands returned to grip him. Movement caught his eye and Nate saw the bottle of Astroglide rolling along the floor of the car.

One of Brad’s fingers pushed into Nate and he bore down and pushed backward. He moaned softly when Brad twisted his finger and spread the lube. Nate hissed at the pleasant sting when Brad slid two fingers into him.

“Dammit,” Brad swore, slipping his hand free and reaching for the errant bottle of lube.

This time, two slick fingers slid up inside of Nate. “Mmm, yeah,” he moaned, pushing against Brad’s hand. When Brad pushed three fingers up inside of Nate, he knew he was ready.

Brad gave a twist of his wrist and pressed lightly against that spot deep inside of Nate. With a low moan, Nate tightened his muscles around Brad’s fingers.

“Christ, you’re still so fucking tight,” Brad breathed.

“Fuck that,” Nate said with a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Just slick yourself up and get to it.” Now was not the time for Brad to go easy.

Brad’s long fingers against wrapped around the Astroglide. Nate heard the wet sound of Brad stroking the lube onto his cock. The time, he discarded the bottle on the seat beneath Nate. When he felt the blunt head of Brad’s cock press against his opening, Nate dropped his head between his shoulders and pushed himself backward.

He waited for Brad to start pounding into him. Instead, Brad took up a slow and steady rhythm that frustrated the fuck out of Nate. He braced himself and gave a shove, impaling himself on Brad’s cock.

“Jesus,” Brad gasped, hands gripping Nate’s hips painfully.

“Not a lot of time here, Brad,” Nate gasped. “Just fucking fuck me.”

He bit back a shout when Brad slammed into him. He locked his arm against the car door and let his head hang. Brad’s breathing was harsh behind him. They found a rhythm, fast and rough, their skin slapping loudly.

Brad’s cock filled and stretched Nate. His ass and thighs tingled where Brad’s skin slapped against his with each thrust. Bursts of intense feeling flooded him each time Brad glanced over his prostate. It had been too fucking long since they’d done this. Stolen moments and quiet hand jobs just didn’t cut it. Nate’s own dick was hard and aching as it swung between his legs in time with Brad’s hard thrusts.

“You … are a tight … hot …fuck, … Mr. Secretary,” Brad said in a low and gravelly voice.

Nate huffed a laugh at Brad’s use of his title. It somehow made this all a little dirtier; a little hotter.

“Are you close?” Brad asked.

“No, but if you touch my dick I’ll get there quick.”

“Lube. Where’s the fucking lube,” Brad’s voice was thick with arousal and frustration.

Nate snatched up the bottle and thumbed open the spout. “Hand,” he gasped.

Brad extended his hand, palm up, for Nate to drizzle lube into. He barely had time to get the bottle closed before Brad’s slick fingers closed around Nate’s cock. The lube fell to the floor, forgotten.

Nate clenched around Brad’s cock, buried to the root inside of him. He flexed his hips, pushing his aching cock into Brad’s tight fist. The rhythm was fast; Brad intent on getting Nate off quickly. The wet sounds of Brad’s hand sliding along his dick were loud and lewd in the dark interior of the car.

This was certainly not what the State Department had intended him to use the vehicle for. The thought made Nate chuckle. As a familiar tingling heat began to spread through his pelvis, it suddenly occurred to Nate he didn’t really want his come all over the back of this car.

He tried to still Brad’s hand on his cock. “Shit … Brad … I can’t …”

“You’re close, I can feel it,” Brad gasped, still stroking Nate with intent.

“Not … on the car,” he groaned, torn between chasing his impending orgasm and not leaving his DNA on the leather seat.

“Fuck,” Brad growled. He shifted against Nate, pitching them both forward. He rummaged in one of the many small compartments in the limo, coming up triumphant with a handful of cocktail napkins. Brad wrapped his free hand around Nate’s chest and tugged him upward. “Come up here.”

Nate knelt up, pressing his back to Brad’s chest. The change shoved Brad’s cock deeper into Nate’s ass. He groaned, slamming his right hand into the roof of the car. It felt good, having Brad that deep, and Nate pushed himself down, trying to get him even deeper. He let his head fall back against Brad’s shoulder.

He felt the napkins pressed into his left hand. Brad’s hand returned to his cock, immediately settling into a fast rhythm with a tight grip. “Oh, fuck,” Nate hissed, holding the napkins ready at the head of his cock.

Brad’s breath was hot against the side of Nate’s neck. Nate rocked onto Brad’s cock and forward into his fist. His climax started to roll through him, warming his belly and tightening his balls.

“Come on, Mr. Secretary,” Brad whispered against the shell of Nate’s ear as he stroked his cock. “Come for me, Mr. Secretary. I wanna feel you around my cock and watch you shoot your come. Gotta be careful, don’t you, Mr. Secretary? Don’t wanna stain your expensive suit or your fancy government car.”

“Brad,” Nate gasped as he started to come.

“That’s it, Nate,” Brad said, sinking his teeth into Nate’s earlobe.

Nate’s body shook violently against Brad’s. His muscles clenched and his cock pulsed. He barely remembered to hold the napkins against the end of his dick as strand after strand of come shot from his slit. His clenched muscles ached. Nate clenched his jaw to hold back his cries as Brad’s wicked hand milked the last waves of his orgasm from him.

He hadn’t even caught his breath when Brad’s hands on his shoulders pushed Nate down. He could smell the leather of the seat, aware his ass was in the air for Brad to do what he wanted.

“I’m so close,” Brad said, gripping Nate’s hips and taking up a punishing rhythm. “Gonna come, watch myself in your ass.”

Brad was true to his word. In moments he was shaking against Nate, cock buried to the hilt. Nate could feel Brad’s come flood inside him. He kept himself tight around Brad’s dick, feeling every pulse, every strand of jizz inside him.

It was all Nate could do to hold them both up when Brad folded down over him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Brad and take a long, luxurious nap. He didn’t know how much time they had left, but he knew it wasn’t much.

“Don’t you fucking go to sleep, Brad,” he said with a laugh.

Brad chuckled against the back of Nate’s neck. “Afraid Robyn will open the car door and find you with your pants around your knees and my dick up your ass?”

Nate laughed again as Brad shifted off of him. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind but I prefer to maintain _some_ dignity in front of my staff.”

Brad pulled out of Nate gently and reached for his travel bag. He traded Nate’s wad of soiled napkins for a travel pack of baby wipes. “You don’t have time for this right now, Mr. Secretary,” Brad said in a perfect imitation of Robyn’s tone and cadence. “I’ll do what I can to clear some space on your calendar next month.”

“I remember when I thought that traveling together meant I’d get laid more often,” Nate sighed wistfully as he took an offered baby wipe from Brad and cleaned himself up. His suit was a wrinkled mess but he didn’t see any wet stains.

“You work long, hard hours and we spend a lot of time on an airplane, surrounded by your staff and the press,” replied Brad as he tucked in his shirt and fastened his trousers.

Nate retrieved his tie and their suit coats from the floor. “Why do I feel the need to be so secretive about having sex with you?” Nate suddenly asked. “We’re not doing anything wrong. I’m _supposed_ to be fucking you.”

Brad straightened his tie and slid his jacket on. “So I’m _not_ your dirty little secret.”

Nate shot Brad a dark look as he started to knot his tie. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Brad’s reply was interrupted by a discreet tap on the privacy glass. It lowered several inches. Nick spoke over his shoulder, without turning fully in their direction. “We’re pulling into the airport, Mr. Secretary.”

“We’re decent back here, Nick,” Nate replied with a grin. “Thank you.”

“Good, sir, because we’re going to move right onto the plane.” Nick still wasn’t looking at them, but Nate could hear the smile in his voice. “Air Force One is already wheels up.”

 “Understood. We’re ready.”

The privacy glass slid back into place. Brad opened the small refrigerated compartment beneath the seat in front of them and withdrew two bottles of water. He handed one to Nate as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“My suit looks like it spent time on the floor,” Nate mused. “It’s probably obvious what we’ve been up to.”

“If the state of our clothing doesn’t give it away, the way you look right now will,” Brad said as he rolled the bottle of water over his still-flushed face.

Nate looked at Brad in surprise. “How exactly do I look?”

“Your face is flushed, your eyes are glowing a brilliant green and your lips are bright red and swollen. You looked freshly fucked.”

Nate ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, well, your face is flushed, too and you’re still sweating at your hairline.”

Brad grabbed a cocktail napkin and blotted away the sweat. “At least it’s obvious how you ended up looking freshly fucked.”

The limo came to a stop on the tarmac right beside the blue and white Boeing 737. The door closest to Brad opened. Nate watched as Brad slid from the car. As he stood up, he clapped Nick on the shoulder.

Nate climbed out of the limo and buttoned his suit coat. His security detail closed in around Brad and him, moving them toward the airplane.

Once inside, Nate headed for his cabin, feeling Brad following behind. The plane seemed quiet and empty. Nate glanced around and realized none of staff was on board, nor was any of the press traveling with him on this trip.

“Nick,” Nate called, turning back in time to see a flight attendant securing the cabin door. “Where’s Robyn and the rest of my staff?”

Nick turned away slightly and spoke into the mic attached to his cuff. “Be advised, the Secretary is aboard. Let’s get wheels up.” He turned back to Nate. “They’re following in separate cars, Mr. Secretary. We need to be off the ground now, sir, so they’ll have to fly home commercial.”

“Excuse me?”

“There are two assistant secretaries on board, Mr. Secretary, they’ll be able to help you with any work you need to complete. The airplane staff is all on board, as is your security detail. The rest of your staff can catch up.”

“Robyn’s going to be livid.”

“Robyn is not my concern, sir. You are. Perhaps this will teach her to be more observant in the future.” Nick glanced and away and murmured under his breath. “I shouldn’t have to be the one to intervene.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Secretary?” Nate turned toward the young woman standing just outside his cabin door. “Sir, the President is on the secure line for you.”

As Nate brushed past, Brad reached out and lightly grasped his arm. “Be advised, sir; I’m going to stop taking no for an answer from you quite as often. In the interest of preventing internal strife among your staff.”

Nate huffed a laugh and went to take his phone call.


End file.
